Chapter 10: The Suleika

It was a mystery to Angelina how Vetinari kept track of time in the easy-going ambience of be Trobi, but he did. Thus they knew that it was a Tuesday, the 11th of Offle, when they made for the main island in a little fishing boat to board the Suleika in the harbour of Uyoiyahuoi. Kamauri, Taihameme and the Alibi had insisted on accompanying them. The be Trobi, who had previously been telling them that surely there was no rush to go home, were now keen to see them leave, so that Vetinari could rectify the rubber situation. Not that they needed the money, but they didn't like to see their gesture of goodwill to the international community rejected.

Ka'adburi Ba felt obliged by his position to treat them to a light lunch of fried sponge kebabs, and so they sat under the brightly coloured awnings outside a waterfront cafe and admired the ship. It was unlike any other ship Angelina had ever seen. Not only was it painted pure white, but it was also enormous. Three rows of portholes made it look more like a house than a seagoing vessel. The two higher rows were set back and surrounded by shaded arcades that seemed to run all around the ship. Here and there, little groups of green and white striped folding chairs were visible on those walkways. Angelina wondered what the ship's cargo might be and why the sailors expected to have enough free time to justify such cosy seating arrangements. With a certain degree of relief, she came to the conclusion that a ship of these dimensions was bound to have some kind of satisfactory sanitary provision.

She was soon distracted by the bustle of the harbour. Uyoiyahuoi was a major town by be Trobi standards, with brightly painted houses of two and even three storeys. It surprised her to see such an international crowd in this place which was almost as far away as possible from what she had hitherto considered the hub of civilization. There were Agatean merchants in their fine silk garments, Klatchian sailors with dashing moustaches, dark-skinned travellers from Howandaland wandering along the quay in little chattering groups. Be Trobi women hurried along the streets with baskets full of fruit, eyed critically by the sponge-eating pygmies, who were offering their coral crafted souvenirs in little stalls placed strategically at all the narrowest points of the dock.

Before she knew it, a group of be Trobi drummers gave the signal that it was time to board. They gathered their luggage about them and bowed their heads to receive the parting gifts from their friends: garlands of sweet-smelling flowers. In eloquent and dignified words, Vetinari expressed their thanks to the Alibi and the two women. Angelina hugged Kamauri and Taihameme and cordially shook Ka'adburi Ba's hand. She noted with interest that they were not the only passengers. About a dozen middle-aged Agatean couples boarded with them, attired in bright and clashing colours and dragging enormous suitcases. A pale and skinny young man in the garb of an Omnian priest also ascended the gangway. It dawned on her that the folding chairs and the many portholes were not for the benefit of the crew.

It was about two o'clock when Vetinari and Angelina were leaning on the rail and waving - he decorously, she with warmth and a tear in her eye - to their friends on the quay. The ship pulled out of the harbour in a rain of streamers and to the tune of "The Silver Albatross" rendered by a group of well-meaning be Trobi musicians on an assortment of conch shells. They stood, ready to watch the hospitable islands shrink away behind them, but before long they found themselves addressed thus:

"Good afternoon, sir, madam, and welcome on board the Suleika. My name is Mahmut, and I will be your cabin steward on this voyage. These are your cabin keys, please return them to the reception desk on deck 2 whenever you go on excursions and before you finally disembark from the ship. Refreshments will be served on deck 1 from three-thirty, and there will be clay-pigeon shooting on the starboard side all afternoon. The Nausicaa Bar will open at seven o'clock. Is there anything else I can do for your present convenience?"

This speech caused Angelina no small degree of confusion, but Vetinari replied without hesitation.

"We'll have two coffees served in our cabin in half an hour, and my wife will very much appreciate it if you have any figgins."

Angelina looked at Vetinari with heartfelt gratitude. If they had figgins, she really wouldn't mind the sea voyage.

oOoOo

He is watching the shadows nervously. They are moving, drifting in and out of focus. The buildings are unfamiliar, though he knows he is on his way home. There is something important he has to do, but he cannot remember what. He feels he needs to hurry, all will be resolved once he reaches the end of the street. The street stretches on and on; he walks, but his steps are getting slower. If only he could remember what it is he has to do so urgently. Or is it something he has to get away from? He turns around and looks at shifting shapes, blurred outlines of strange houses. The ground tilts, gives way under his feet and he scrambles frantically backwards, along the wall of a looming building. A figure rises from a doorway in front of him, clad in flowing black robes, and puts a naked blade against his throat...

Lord Rust awoke in a puddle of sweat. 1) It took him a minute or two to reassure himself of his surroundings and shake off the leaden terror of the dream. He crept out of bed and tiptoed to the door. A sigh of relief escaped him when he found it locked, then he slunk over to the window, which he also discovered to be fastened and secure. With trembling fingers he lit his bedside candle. He shone the light into every dark corner, behind the curtains, under the bed. He opened the wardrobe and looked at nothing but his clothes staring back at him.

Eventually, he extinguished the light and went back to bed. He lay on his back and stared into the dark, straining his ears to make out the strangely amplified noises of the night. Was that the floorboards creaking? A mouse scurrying? Was there a scraping sound at the window? His heart was still beating faster than it should.

An hour later he was still lying wide awake. It had been like this almost every night since that terrible attack by the mysterious stranger. Harrowing nightmares would wake him, and then he would spend the small hours clutching his sheets, too petrified to venture into the land of nod again. He was worn out with lack of sleep and exhausted from fear. The challenges of his days were fripperies compared to his nightly tribulations.

Lord Rust sat up in bed. This was no life, and suddenly it occurred to him that he didn't have to be here. In a week's time the legal waiting period would be over and Vetinari could be declared dead. It was some time ago now that Rust had stopped looking forward to this event and the full Patrician's title which was bound to follow. Now he realized that he wanted nothing more than be rid of the job. He would tell his wife first thing in the morning. When Vetinari was declared dead, he would step down from office, and then he could just go home. Let somebody else deal with this blooming city and assassins in the bedroom.

He sank back into his pillows and slept like a baby.2)

1) Hyperbole again.

2) That is, he woke up every hour, screaming.

oOoOo

Under a blue, blue sky reflected by a blue, blue sea, the Suleika was gliding ever widdershins. The Vetinaris lay reclining in their deck chairs on the port side. Angelina was humming a vague little tune and scribbled on a postcard. Prolific and intimate as her correspondence with her sister had always been, faced with this piece of card she struggled to find something to write. 3) Eventually, with much frowning and chewing of the pencil, she managed:

Dear Cassandra,

I hope this will reach you and relieve you from any worry you might have on my account. Please tell mother and father that Havelock and I are quite well. We have spent a very interesting time on the be Trobi Islands and are now on board a very strange ship bound for Klatch. It is more like a floating tavern. I have tried to draw a picture for you on the back. The food does not agree with me, but the weather continues fine.

Love

Lina

Vetinari had acquired a small selection of books from the ship's miniscule library. There were few volumes, and even fewer in Morporkian. He had left "Lacemaking Through the Ages" on the shelf on the basis that he already knew it. "Hurricane of Passion" and "1001 Home Improvement Projects" hadn't excited his interest, either, so he was now absorbed in "A Little History of Pumice Stones".

Around midday, they noticed that all the sailors were busy applying something to their ears. After an announcement made in Agatean, the other passengers withdrew to their cabins. Only the Omnian priest remained and seemed occupied with his ears. Mahmut approached them and handed them a piece of beeswax each.

"You have to stick this into your ears, if you want to stay on deck, sir," he explained. Vetinari closed his book.

"Would you care to explain why?"

"Well, sir, we're coming up to the island of the singing bird-women. You've to plug up your ears, or the beauty of their song will drive you to madness and you will throw yourselves into the sea."

"You've seen this happen, Mahmut?"

"No, sir, we've always had our beeswax handy. But I've seen them plenty times when we sailed by, and there's the wreckage of the ships of those poor souls who didn't know any better. They lure them towards the rocks, you see, with their enchanting songs."

"Sirens. How interesting," murmured Vetinari and exchanged glances with Angelina. He handed the beeswax back to the sailor, and she did likewise. "Mahmut, the lady and I would like to hear the bird-women sing. We are craving a cultural experience."

"Well, sir, in that case we'll have to tie you to the mast. That's Health and Safety Regulations."

"You will do no such thing, Mahmut. We will listen to these mythic creatures in full possession of our limbs."

Mahmut turned as pale as his weather-beaten skin would allow and shook his head.

"No, you mustn't, sir! You will lose your mind, you surely will!"

Meanwhile, their conversation had attracted the captain's attention. He sauntered over and exchanged a few sentences with Mahmut. Then he turned to Vetinari and addressed a torrent of Klatchian words to him. His lordship smiled calmly.

"And yet I am unmoved. Mahmut, thank Captain Al Batros for his concern, but we will do as I proposed. Since we have paid our passage, I dare say it will be ultimately of no concern to you whether we jump overboard or not."

Mahmut looked as if he was going to make further objections, but the island was now visible on the horizon, so he had to fit the wax into his own ears and attend to his duties. He cast a sorrowful look at Angelina, who gave him a friendly wave and then turned her attention to the Sirens' rock. It was another quarter of an hour before they were able to discern the first faint fragments of sound. Soon the songs grew louder and clearer. The sailors went about their tasks, from time to time furtively looking over to the island and back at the Vetinaris, who sat in their seats with expressions of great concentration. After a while, Vetinari leaned towards Angelina and whispered:

"It would appear that the local sailors have no very great skills in musical appreciation."

She nodded. "Yes. The soprano certainly sounds strained in the upper range. Very poor diaphragm control. I don't think she would even get into the chorus at the opera."

"Oh, they let all sorts of people into the chorus, I believe. But did you hear that? The alto was clearly flat on that diminished fifth."

"Oh, well, the tritone ... diabolus in musica ... Still, if they are supposed to be enchanting singers, one would have expected a bit more. I really can't say I'm impressed. Too much vibrato from the alto for my taste, I would say even bordering on tremolo."

"Good grief, there's the soprano out of key, too!"

Angelina gave a sad shake of her head. "You know what it is? Great voices wasted by lack of training."

"Hardly surprising if one sits on a rock in the middle of the ocean."

"But what a shame. A bit of voice work and the basics of harmonic progression - "

"You won't be able to teach them, Angelina. Don't even start to think up a training programme for them."

As the ship sailed past the rocks, they tried to get a glimpse of the Sirens, but they were too far away. Soon afterwards, the song faded and the sailors removed their ear plugs. Mahmut came over and looked at them in wonder. Vetinari met his gaze with equanimity.

"I've never been a great connoisseur of performed music," he said.

Angelina saw Mahmut's jaw drop. She shrugged her shoulders and smiled at him.

"We do have a very good opera house in Ankh-Morpork, you know. And I'm sorry to tell you that people in the city wouldn't pay to hear these bird women. I assume the other passengers have been here before and had no desire to hear them again?"

At this point, Mahmut's brain shut down and he walked away shaking his head.

3) This affliction is widely spread throughout the multiverse and sometimes referred to as Postcard Block.

oOoOo

The High Energy Magic Building had never seen such an illustrious assembly before. A delegation of senior priests ostensibly not lead by Hughnon Ridcully occupied the front bench of the makeshift auditorium facing the large, round screen. Behind them, with expressions ranging from grave importance to sheer sensationalism, were the major aristocrats and the principal guild leaders. A little bit aside and at an angle to the benches, allowing him full view of both the omniscope and everybody present, a single armchair had been placed for Lord Rust. The Acting Patrician looked somewhat constipated. William de Worde sat in a corner, with his notebook ready, next to Henry Winter, who was pale and quiet. Mr Slant had set up a provisional desk near the door. The Not-Quite-Duke-of-Ankh-Anymore leaned against the opposite wall, scanning the distinguished congregation with the appearance of somebody who is being forced to eat his own boot. Assorted wizards floated about the room. 4) Archchancellor Ridcully rubbed his hands.

"Well, well, well, here we are. Welcome to Unseen University. I'm sure we all know each other. It seems a bit of a morbid thing to me, what we are about to do today, but a necessary one. Hmmm. Let's get it over and done with then, shall we? Doctor Turnipseed?"

Adrian Turnipseed stood up and straightened his robe. Promotion had made him respectable 5) and he had conveniently forgotten that he had once been known as Big Mad Drongo. With an air of quiet importance, he pushed his spectacles up his nose with his middle finger.

"The omniscope is prepared, Archchancellor. We have acquired several items of equipment from the Heavenly Mary, which had been left behind in Limonum. They should allow Hex to get a lock on the boat."

He stepped aside and picked up a couple of lobster-pots and a rope, which he inserted into a glass box on top of Hex's main structure. The box was connected to glass tubes on either side and after the turning of a lever was immediately invaded by a large numbers of ants. Ponder Stibbons adjusted various contraptions on the omniscope and cast a critical look at the glass tubes.

"We're just waiting for a signal now."

All eyes in the room were turned towards the dark screen. After a while, the omniscope flickered and slowly came into focus, showing an image of the Heavenly Mary moving along in calm waters. Lord and Lady Vetinari were seen sitting at the prow eating sandwiches. Ponder Stibbons consulted the latest output of scribbles from Hex's mechanical quill.

"That was the day after the storm. Fast forward a bit."

Adrian Turnipseed, who operated the omniscope by means of a thin and narrow black box, pressed a couple of buttons. The picture on the screen was distorted into a whizzing turmoil of black and white stripes, before it settled again into a new scene. Lady Vetinari was seen in a state of undress, pouring water over her head from a ceramic dish. Turnipseed blushed and pressed the button again. The picture flickered away. When it stopped next, the audience perceived the couple busy erecting Vetinari's black robe on a spar and sheltering under it from a blistering sun.

"That was on the 23rd of Sektober," said Stibbons, referring to the strip of paper.

Once again, the omniscope spun forward. Vimes held his breath and felt his fists clench inside his pockets. If they had had survived for that long, there was no telling what ploys Vetinari might have come up with. The bastard had this talent for staying alive. He glanced at Rust. The worried expression on the man's face showed that the Acting Patrician was thinking along the same lines.

The next scene swam into focus. Everybody strained their eyes, since the boat was drifting in the dim light of a waning moon. The picture flickered and jumped about in the frame. Glimpses of the two figures in daylight alternated with images of the nightly scene.

"I am sorry," said Ponder Stibbons. "The centrifugal compensator doesn't appear to be working properly and we are getting the Gustavii Effect. The boat must be very close to the Rim now, where the Disc turns much faster than here, because we are nearer the Hub. Normally the omniscope can counteract this effect by means of a perpendicular rotation regulator, but I believe thaumic interferences are obstructing the flux cylinder."

Eventually, the picture settled. The audience could barely make out the robe-turned-sunshade. The horizon was curiously illuminated by a silvery haze, which drew closer as they watched. A star-dotted sky filled more and more of the picture until the boat, on reaching the silvery haze, titled forward and disappeared. The screen went blank, flickered, and cleared again. The sight now revealed was as incredible as it was wonderful. The boat was seen falling down a tremendous waterfall, then the picture swept backwards to show a broader view. The more impressionable people in the audience gasped. There was a giant flat ear, attached to an even larger head, which in turn was only part of a truly galactic elephant. The boat appeared as a tiny dot, racing down a colossal leg. Then the star turtle came into view, its gargantuan body crisply outlined against the dark, star-sprinkled space. The omniscope homed in on the boat again, capturing its last few moments of free fall and the spectacular sight of it shattering on the turtle's shell.

For a few seconds, nobody spoke. Then Rincewind broke the silence.

"They have fallen over the edge," he said, needlessly.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen, I think that settles it." Lord Downey rose from his seat and turned towards the zombie. "I am sure, Mr Slant, that this will be considered sufficient evidence to have them declared dead?"

The grey face of the lawyer was expressionless. He cleared his throat and gave a little cough, which dislocated a silver-winged moth. From his briefcase, he pulled some documents.

"It would appear so, my lord. I shall require the signatures of six witnesses. If you would be so good, Archchancellor..."

The document was duly signed by both Ridcully brothers, Downey, Rust, Selachii and the Dean. When he was quite sure that nobody was going to ask him, Vimes left as quickly as he could. He had no desire to hear any more of Henry Winter's sobbing.

4) Metaphorically speaking. The average wizard is of a stature that defeats most levitation spells.

5) For a given value of "respect".